The Girl Who Shattered Time
by branbridge
Summary: Hermione, Harry and Draco are sent back to 1944 during the finale battle due to a botched up spell. Thrown into a whirlwind of prejudice and lies Hermione finds herself the center of Tom's obsession. Bad things may happen to wizards who meddle with time, but what about witches? Mostly TRHG with a bunch of DMHG (Rated for later chapters)
1. Fate and Fools

I'm trying something a bit different with this fic. ;v;/

_So there's going to be mostly Tom/Hermione with a bunch of Draco/Hermione._

**Also, English is **_**not**_** my first (or second) language, so I apologize for any grammar mistakes.**

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**Please REVIEW.**

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Hermione had never put much stock into things like divination, things like fate and crystal balls were for people who were too afraid to see the world for what it was: a place where messed up things happen for no reason. People who believed in a high power were fools, but Hermione Jean Granger was no fool. She didn't buy into tessomancy, tarot cards or chiromancy it was all woolly and ridiculous at best. She was much too logical to buy into the discombobulated guess work that was divination- so it came as no surprise that she didn't read into Sybill Trelawney's warning, but what sane person would?

Trelawney had pulled her away from her friends an hour before the finale battle to tell her some rubbish about trusting fate and that everything happens for a reason. A bunch of teenagers were about to fight an army of blood thirsty death eaters and she wanted to tell Hermione to go with the flow? Hermione had scoffed at the advice and walked away without asking for an explanation. There were too many things to do in preparation. Too many important things… things that people relied on being done with their lives and to Hermione that outweighed the mental ramblings of a madwoman.

However, Hermione now found herself wishing she had followed up on the blasted woman's warning, because apparently fate hated her and was determined to ruin her life every which way. At least that's all she could think of as she lay on the crisp white sheets on one of the infirmary's cots- that fate was working against her favor that is. Correction the fates were working against her and her best friend, Harry Potter.

This had to be karma calling for payment for Hermione being such a terrible daughter or something of the sort. If Hermione believed in karma, which she didn't, she would admit that it's quite the bitch. Wither it was for when she stole a five dollar bill from her mother's purse a week before her tenth birthday or her haste in removing her parents' memories, karma had come to collect it's dues.

However, regardless of how bitchy karma may or may not be, Hermione still firmly believed that divination was a bunch of nonsense people made up by people who needed to hide from their own mistakes and the young witch had to admit, she had made a mistake in her plan. Well… a rather _huge_ miscalculation.

A blunder of rather gigantic proportions, but to be fair she had only done what she did as a last resort. It was just a _slight_ mispronunciation that landed her here, not an agent of fate. Unless you consider Draco Malfoy to be an agent of fate, somehow the young pureblood had seemingly channeled his inner Gryffindor and thrown his body at her kneeling figure. He had knocked her to the ground for the purpose of moving her out of the way of a rather nasty dark curse. An action she was truly grateful for, but it had caused her to falter in her recitation of the spell's incantation. A mistake that had lead to the ancient spell reacting with her blasted time turner instead of her best friend's barely breathing body.

She supposed that she deserved as much for using such an archaic untested spell. She pledged that she would never use a spell written by Salazar Slytherin after this day, especially now that she had seen the penalty of a mistake. Regardless of the consequences she was honestly happy she had used the spell, but was sincerely disappointed that she had made such a big slip-up in her haste. As an example, she had saved Harry's life, but now they were in deep, deep shit.

As in potentially paradoxical shit.


	2. Back to the war

**So this is the first **_**real**_** war scene I've written? I used a lot of inspiration from other fics and from the books themselves. ;v;/ Advice would be appreciated.**

Also, in this fic Ron and Hermione were _NEVER_ an item.

**Review please. :)**

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Jump to the right, duck, shoot a curse back, throw up a shield and shoot yet another spell. That's how her duel was progressing with Malfoy Sr., both were sending a constant line of curses at each other and killing anyone who attempted to impede in on their duel. Well... _he_ was killing anyone who dared to impede regardless of their allegiance.

From the corner of her eye she could see most of her professors holding Voldemort off until Harry got over to him. Hermione could only pray that they'd be able to hold them back long enough. Not likely, but one _had_ to hope.

"Hermione DUCK!" Lavender yelled from her left. Hermione threw her body towards the ground and narrowly missed the killing curse sent from Lucius. Hermione rolled to her right and pushed herself onto her feet and shot the same curse back at him. His eyes widened in surprise, when she sent the killing curse at him.

Hermione did feel rather terrible for having to resort to using an unforgivable, but she had _no other_ choice. She couldn't merely continue to stun them; they all simply got back up to fight after one of their comrades revived them. Anyone could see the flaws in merely stunning the enemy, they needed results.

After a few minutes she finally gets lucky and hits him in the chest with her curse. She held back the urge to hurl; she had never killed anyone before and she _kinda_ liked it. It was empowering knowing that he wouldn't hurt anyone again. Oh god, she was utterly sick. AT that thought she turned her head to the side and did dump the contents of her stomach.

She couldn't afford to waste time mourning a man she didn't respect, in fact she didn't really particularly like him. She reluctantly made her way through the carnage. Flashes of rainbows ran in front of her eyes, curses of all colours illuminated the sky in shades of deadly greens, reds and the like. Hitting figures on both sides, light and dark; Cho and Fred were only two of light's fighters who had fallen in the past few seconds, both were hit by stray killing curses.

She held back the urge to cry as she watched so many of her friends die. However, they were on a battlefield. There are no room for tears... only death and victory, and she'd be damned if light didn't see victory today. Tears and grief could come after the fighting ended, she simply couldn't afford to break down now. She was the brains of the trio and if they retreated they'd need her. So she pushed the grief of seeing her friends fall into a small box and locked it up in the back of her mind, she wouldn't break… not here, she'd show them just how powerful a _mudblood_ could be.

She silently tried to calm her shaking, she was just so bloody afraid. It wasn't like she _wanted_ be so cowardly, but it was so _unfair._ She wasn't even twenty yet and here she was, throwing curses around in a bloody war that should had won decades ago. She merely wanted to live her life happy; she wanted her friends to be happy. She wanted to go to the burrow and see the Weasley family, alive and well. She wanted Draco to have a happy childhood, one not filled with bigoted hatred and abuse; she didn't want him to live in fear for his entire life. She wanted her parents living in her childhood home, she wanted to be able to go and see them. She wanted Harry to finally live a peaceful life, she wanted him to have his parents.

She wanted to be happy and didn't want to die before she turned nineteen.

Her entire life has been a long string: books, a few friendships, death and war. However, even being surrounded by death since she was ten, she had yet to come to terms with her own. It was simple, she did _not_ want to die.

She _really_ did not want to die.

She casted her strongest shield charm around herself and ran over to where she could only assume Harry and Voldemort were fighting.

Hermione sent a silent stunner at a Death Eater fighting with Ron. He sent her a grin from across the field and then he went back to fighting beside Ginny. Hermione in turn devoted her attention to making her way across the battle to Harry.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

"NOOOOOO!" Hermione recognized her friend's voice, she turned on her heels. Ron was sobbing as he knelt by his dead sister. He shook her body and begged her stay with him, but she was already gone. Hermione took over protecting him in light of his weakness. She shot three dark curses at the offenders and they fell to the ground dead or dying.

She ran towards the sobbing boy and tried to yank him upwards. When he didn't move she hissed in frustration. They did not have time for this, they had to help Harry.

"Ronald Weasley, we can grieve later, we have to save Harry."

Ron finally looked away from the dead body he was cradling, "Mione?"

"Yes, it's me. We need to get to Harry." He stiffened and let out another sob. Hermione fought the urge to break down alongside him, "We don't have time, Ron, we have to win. _Please get up._" The last three words came out unusually high pitched as held back her own tears.

Ron limply nodded and put Ginny's body back on the ground, Hermione shot a stunner at the only Death Eater who paid the two of them any mind. They both got up and started to rush towards Harry.

"Stunners won't work for long, Ron; we have to use a more permanent solution."

"You're right. AVADA KEDAVRA!" Hermione flinched as green shot from his wand and hit an enemy in the back. "Let's go help Harry, 'Mione."

The young witch jumped out of the way of a rather lethal curse; however, the curse hit Ron in the chest. He collapsed onto the ground with a sickening thud. Hermione paused and a whimper escaped her throat. The Death Easter smirked at her; Hermione pointed her wand at her enemy and screamed, "CRUCIO!" The Death Eater's eyes widened and the doubled over in pain, Hermione grinned as she held him under the curse for almost a minute before killing him. She knelt down by Ron and grabbed his wand and she solemnly shoved the stick into her pants pocket.

She tried to reassure herself that her actions were acceptable for as she made her way across the blood soaked floor.

She fingered the wand she had nicked from Ron's body. They had all agreed that if they died that the survivor would take their wand so they could continue to live through the thin slip of wood. Her grip on her own wand tightened as she shot more curses and refreshed her shield.

She was so tired of all the lost loved ones, Ron, Ginny, Luna, the twins and most of the the Order. She wanted this war to be over, but she knew in order for that to happen Harry needed help. She also knew she would have to be the one to save Harry. Sure, she didn't want to die... but she was prepared to sacrificing herself if it meant that her best friend may have a peaceful life. Too many had died for her to be selfish, she couldn't allow her fear of death get the better of her, after all that's the reason they were facing down a dark lord. A fear of death that is, well his to be precise.

She was stony calm as she walked through the now diminished crowd, most of the Order were either dead or unconscious. Whereas most of the Death Eaters had been killed, dissaparated or were still battling the few fighters Light still had left. However, most were so caught up in her own fights they didn't notice her making her way towards the duel of the century and the few who did notice she shot curses or stunners at, knocking them out her way as fast as they appeared.

Her hair seemed to brimming with raw power, she was so angry. So _very_ angry. She was angry at the adults for dying and living it to children. Angry at Tom Riddle Sr. for abandoning his child. Mad at Voldemort for taking it out on the world. Blistering with rage at the fact that her friends were the one who had to pay for the mistakes made decides before her time.

She kicked the bodies of Death Eaters out of the way and respectfully, as much as was possible, stepped over the bodies of her former comrades.

When she finally made it to the dark lord and the hope of light's fight Harry was hit by a particularly dark curse she once read about. Voldemort let out an evil cold laugh, "The-boy-who-lived is DEAD." The Death Eaters cheered and the last members of the Order looked horrified.

"No!" Hermione ran towards his side, to any on looker she was crying over his body. However, she was reciting perhaps one of the oldest spells known to wizarding kind. She had read it in a book she had found in the chamber when they had destroyed the Cup. It was a spell written by Salazar Slytherin, the point was to reverse spells; he theorized that the killing curse continues to use magic to keep the body dead. If they curse could be removed the body may be able to recover its life force along as the caster also offers a bit of their energy to the object of the spell. Hermione had scoffed at the idea at first, but it was the best they could do.

After several seconds of Voldemort laughing about his victory Hermione had succeeded in removing the curse, she had quickly begun the quite even longer incantation to push her own energy into him so he could restore himself faster than was possibly naturally.

"SOLUTIO!"

Hermione flinched in anticipation of the disintegration curse, however, she was suddenly a body knocked her onto the cold stone ground. Hermione turned toward the body and saw Draco grinning at her. He whispered to her, "Hurry and finish it, I'll try to shield us."

She bit her and she pathetically tried to finish the incantation. However, half way through it Draco cried out after being hit by a dark curse and Hermione hesitated before saying the final two words.

Suddenly they were enveloped in a bright yellow light. Her time turner started to heat up and she swore. "DRACO, HOLD ONTO ME NOW!" She threw her arms around Harry and Draco followed suit. Suddenly the mechanism shattered and sent glass shards cutting into her shirt and onto her left shoulder, where the turn laid at an angle.

Hermione screamed out in pain and clutched onto the two boys harder than she had ever held onto something before.

Time travel fucking hurt.


	3. Charmed Cigarettes

So, I love, love, LOVE Draco to pieces so I couldn't help, but have him have a part. I had a lot of fun writing the flashback part, but any advice on such things would be greatly appreciated.

The next chapter will be from Tom's POV most likely (well maybe Hermione's or both of them ahahh). ;v;/ Also, it'll take place during the sorting most likely because I don't feel like writing any filler about them waiting for Harry to awaken.

_A big, actually HUGE, thank you to the few did review this story so far. I love you all._

**Please REVIEW and INCLUDE A **_**WORD**_** OR **_**PHASE **_**that you want **_**me to use in the next few chapters**_**. **(I'll do most of them if I can find a way to place them into the story naturally. ;v;/)

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Draco couldn't really explain, well not in understandable and coherent words, why he had launched himself at Granger and shielded her from his once lord. He didn't particularly _like_ her nor did he like Scarhead. However, if he ever found himself in a position where he simply _must_ explain it would go something along the lines of what he saw in Granger's eyes, the calculative glint and the barely visibly movement of her mouth. He was curious, he supposed.

Ok, that was a rather _huge_ lie. A gruesomely gigantic one in fact.

For one, Draco wasn't merely curious about what she was doing. He knew exactly what she was doing, he had after all given her the book she had learned the two spells she used on the-boy-wonder from. So, yeah, he knew that she was removing the active magic that was keeping the bloke dead and the second was to help him regain his strength, how horridly that went is beside the matter.

Secondly, he was purely a tired little boy and little boys don't fight wars. They stay _theoretically _safe within castle walls, while they play with toy soldiers. However, Draco's title of little boy was ripped from him too soon and he was tired of the death and constant fear; so tired that he would choose the-boy-wonder over the dark lord, or as he liked to call him 'the-great-noseless-one'.

Thirdly, he _did,_ in fact, like Hermione. He enjoyed her company immensely, but why wouldn't he? She was witty, beautiful, kind and surprisingly very nonjudgmental about important things. So, yeah, he had made the decision to cast away his supposed allegiance to the dark lord in favor of the one who had offered him a life line, Hermione to be exact.

Their relationship was rather peculiar and if he must name it, it would be referred to as 'secrets and nicotine'.

Now that he had begun to really consider _why_ he did what he did, one conversation they had stuck out in his mind.

_Draco, as much as he hated to admit, was a creature of habit. So, as he had done for nearly half a year, he went to the astronomy tower around one in the morning and as always there was someone already there._

_Draco stared at the muggleborn witch who stood in front of him, back against the thin bar of the balcony. A muggle cigarette in between two of her pale fingers; she absently ran her free hand through her wavy hair while she waited for his arrival. After a few minutes she noticed his form walking towards him and offered him a slight smile and a smoke, as was their tradition. Ad as per tradition he always refused, however, today was different. Draco stuck his nose up slightly and yanked the cigarette out of her outstretched hand. The witch raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. She provided him her already lit fag. He gratefully placed his own unlit one to it, igniting the paper covering. He studied the packaged tobacco for a moment before looking over at the witch in front of him for further instruction. She muffled a chuckled before placed her own against her lips and taking a long drag._

_He hesitantly placed the filter to his mouth and gave the long stick a puff. He pulled a face and Granger laughed rather loudly. He frowned; he tried his best to copy Granger's deep inhales and exhales. Bad idea, he began to cough violently after imitating her drags. The witch muffled her laughter with her free hand and motioned for him to lean on the railing with her. He obliged while he continued to cough up his lungs._

_When his coughing subsided he sneered at Hermione, "Those are bloody disgusting, Granger."_

_She shrugged with a small smile playing on her lips, "To each their own."_

_They were silent for a while, merely staring at the stars from the tower. After a few more long drags, she had smoked her cigarette to the filter. She casually tossed the butt onto the floor and squashed the cherry out with her left loafer._

_A few more moments of silence passed before Hermione spoke again._

"_I used to hate cigarettes, you know?" _

_Draco appraised the girl in a rather dubious manner. "Then why are you smoking them?"_

_She pulled a face, "Sirius."_

_Draco paused and waited for her to elaborate, she indulged his curiosity._

"_He convinced me to take my first drag; it was strong. The kind of strong that sticks in your lungs well after you put it out. There was something strangely exciting about watching him take a deep purple drag and it was a welcome comfort when the nicotine would run through my veins, releasing all my hidden stress and pent up nerves" She gestured with her hand before lighting up yet another fag. She let out a long patch of smoke before continuing, " And when he died I started to smoke so much I became dependant on the release I got from taking each and every drag. It was the only solace I could find in him being gone."_

_Draco was silent, but listened to her every word, much like she did for him every night since he first caught her almost five months before._

_A bitter laugh erupted from her throat, "Now that I think about it I _still _hate cigarettes."_

_He took another drag from his fag, he had gotten used to it to the point he had stopped coughing. Hermione had finished her again and lit up another one._

_Draco anxious to change the subject asked her how she made her cigarettes blow out different colour smoke. She had explained, in her know-it-all voice she still used in class, that she had used a charm Sirius had shown her that was a combination of mood charms and a little spell work. Draco was impressed, it was a complicated concept for something as simple as changing the smoke of their fags to reflect their mood. _

_After a while they had moved away from the railing and back into the interior of the tower, where they resided on one of the long, thick benches. Hermione laid on the stomach, with her head prompted up on her arms. Malfoy in turn leaned back, supporting himself on his hands as he stared at the dull ceiling of the tower._

_Hermione – his father would throttle him if he knew he referred to a mudblood by their first name occasionally - broke their comfortable silence with her smooth voice._

"_We should just run away; forget about the war and just leave."_

_Draco pondered her words and when he came to the conclusion that she was actually partially serious. Draco frowned, his hands clenched and unclenched for a few moments. He removed his eyes from the ceiling and turned his head to look at the witch's relaxed figure. She looked into his eyes from where her head laid, supported by her arms. She threw him a sad smile, she already knew his reply. _

_His voice cracked, "We would never get away with something that stupid and here I thought you were the brains of the trio." The last part was said with fake mirth as he attempted to hide his body's slight shaking._

_However, she noticed and her sad smile tuned into a grimace. Her voice became quiet and light, "One can dream, Malfoy."_

_Draco didn't acknowledge her last comment, instead he studied her from the corner of his eye; she had changed quite a bit since they were naive first years. Well, a lot actually. She had finally grown into her years, her once board like body now held soft curves in _all_ the right places. Her hair was pulled into a messy bun-like-up-do on top of her head and tendrils of loose hair framed her face in tuffs of light brown._

_Her face had lost its baby fat leaving her with a thin heart shaped face and high cheekbones. Her mouth was graced with prettily shaped lips and a gorgeous pair of no-longer-beaver-like-teeth. Her eyes held an immense amount of intelligence and a mischievous glint; they reminded Draco of the aged whiskey his father loved so much and caramel sauce. She smelled of sweet jasmine, tart cucumber and vaguely of books, sweet to a fault, but reflected her underlining cool and bookish personality. It was a very sensual smell and so very Hermione. So, no, she was no longer the shapeless, bucktooth 10 year-old he first met, she was a natural beauty that far surpassed her years. He'd be hard pressed not to be attracted to the witch, regardless of her bloodline._

_He began to ponder why he had refused, but his attention was caught by her movement. She had begun to casually push herself off her stomach and sat up enough to light up another cigarette. _

_She took a few drags before she spoke up once again, "Mmmm, Draco?"_

_Draco raised an eyebrow, "Yes, Granger?" _

_She wrinkled her nose at his use of her last name, "You know you can call me 'Mione."_

"_Why would I ever do that, Granger?"_

_She finally looked over at him, their eyes met and he cocked his head to the side and waited for her answer. She hesitated before answering, her cheeks flushed and she bit her lip._

"_Because we're friends."_

_He paused, "Are we?"_

_Hermione's silky eyes looked hurt for a moment, "I think so?"_

_Draco was silent for few moments before holding out his hand. Granger understood the motion and handed him a fag and allowed him to once again use her already lit one as the spark needed to ignite the paper-cover-nicotine. He inhaled deeply and sighed. Indigo smoke came out of his mouth as he contemplated his answer. After a few moments he made up his mind._

_Draco exhaled a billow of dark red smoke and watched as it floated away, it stood in stark contrast in comparison to the boring grays of the tower's ceiling, "Yeah, I think so too."_

_She let out a particularly pink puff of smoke and smiled. She and said, in a very mirth-filled voice, "Thanks, you're pretty nice for a ferret."_

_He replied in mock superiority, "As are you for a mud-excuse, I meant muggleborn." _

_She raised an eyebrow and he winked at her. They both burst into laughter._

_They stayed in the tower for nearly two more hours as they slipped into rather heated discussions and comfortable silence._

Draco turned to stare at the still sleeping girl who had taught him how to charm a cigarette's smoke to match your mood. The once very bushy haired witch who had out done him in every class and drove his god-father up the wall with her know-it-all tendencies. The young woman who happened to be Harry Potter's muggleborn best friend, the brains of the golden trio, Gryffindor princess and the literal embodiment of everything his father had taught him to hate. Luckily for him, his father wasn't born yet.

His thoughts hit him like a truck, a muggle form of transportation that Hermione explained to him once.

His father wasn't fucking _born_ yet, bloody hell he's in the same time period as a very young charismatic dark lord and his own father wasn't even born yet.

A whimper pulled him out of his thoughts and brought his attention towards a thrashing Gryffindor Princess. He rushed over to her bedside, much to the protest of his aching muscles, and shook her awake. Her eyes shot open and her breathing became shallow, she looked around the room and noticed the calendar in the corner of the room. She whimpered again.

"Oh you two are awake." Draco and Hermione both looked towards the voice, a younger version of Madam Pomfrey. Draco blanched and Hermione appeared speechless.

However, Hermione was the first to gather herself and speak, "Ma'am may I ask a favor?"

"What is it deary?"

Hermione gave the matron a small smile, "Can you get Dumbledore; we know him and it's of great importance that we speak with him. If necessary tell him that Ariana sent us."

The witch nodded curtly and sped out of the room to get Dumbledore.

"Granger, who the hell is Ariana? Also, what are you going to tell him?"

Hermione grinned and her eyes lit up, "The truth, but fair warning this may get _very _ugly."

Draco frowned, "But who is Ariana?"

She shrugged, "His dead sister, whose death he blames himself for."

Malfoy hissed through his teeth, "Then why did you mention her?"

"You'll see, he'll be here in the next two minutes tops."

As Hermione predicted he sped into the room and quickly used a silence charm. He turned towards the relaxing witch, "Who are you?"

Hermione sat up and smiled, "We're the only hope for the wizarding world, Professor. Now, let me explain the story."

For the next ten minutes Hermione filled him in about her life from the age of ten, she also apologized for the use of his sister's name. Dumbledore visibly tensed when she apologized, but soon after his eyes regained his familiar twinkle.

"Well, Ms. Granger what do you suppose you'll do now?"

The young Muggleborn witch shrugged, "I want to be allowed to use your surname for myself and Harry. We need to catch his attention and using your name would be the best way to do that."

Dumbledore raised an auburn brow and nodded, "My brother would never allow you to claim yourselves as his children and as you know I have no living siblings, so I'll have to claim you as my bastard children."

Hermione nodded, "I understand, but I believe it's for the best."

Dumbledore nodded and motioned towards where Draco was sitting, "What about Mr. Malfoy there?"

Draco was about to speak up when Granger cut him off, "Draco Deluve, if I'm not mistaken they were a rather obscure French pureblood family in this time period, one which Grindelwald wiped out when they refused to give him access to their superior library. We'll be claiming that we were all attending Beauxbatons when we received word of his family's death and threats against my brother and my lives we rushed to Hogwarts."

Dumbledore nodded curtly and his bright twinkle was slightly subdued. "I'll explain the situation to Dippet and once Mr. Potter awakens we'll sort you and place you in your houses. I wish you luck with your mission, my dear daughter."

Hermione spared Draco a mirthful stare before regarding Dumbledore with sober eyes, "Sir we cannot thank you enough for this."

Dumbledore stood up and stared to walk out of the room, "I can only hope you will repay me by successfully completing your mission."


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